


Light My Candle?

by WhyMrSpook



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - RENT, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Has Feelings, M/M, RENT the musical, Romantic Fluff, charles is mimi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 01:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: The stranger held up a candle, eyes full of amusement.“Hi, sorry to interrupt, do you have a light?” The power is out. During Erik's intensifying irritation at the world, he's interrupted by the simple request of a neighbour with the prettiest eyes and lips he's ever seen.





	

Erik stared at the city of New York with only a halfhearted anger still residing in him. It had dissipated mostly after Hank had left to try and find Sean in the cruel streets of New York, but he liked to retain an ounce of self-loathing. It was comforting, in some sick way. He’d had nothing but solitude and anger for most of his life, and he wasn’t about to give it up now just because Hank was being pissy at him and trying to get him to socialise. People, he'd found, were always so disappointing.

The apartment was pitch black, thanks to another black out, and he’d had to prop up some torches just to light the path from the door. It felt like he lived half his life in darkness because the sorry excuse for a human who owned the building couldn't invest any time or money into giving them basic living conditions. Erik was as experienced as any engineer and had his power to fix it at that; but what was the point? It wasn't his responsibility, and he wouldn't risk having his mutation caught out because he couldn't sit idly by like most humans and live in the dark.

From the window, he could see the lights of the city that hadn't succumbed to dodgy wiring. They twinkled, mocking him, warm and charming in the dark. There were a million lights ahead of him; hundreds of thousands of people out living their lives, oblivious and ignorant. Happy, his brain suggested, and he quickly rejected it. No-one was truly happy. He was, at least, not so self-righteous as to believe he was above everyone else in that respect. In all other respects, yes, sure.

The knock on the door was unexpected. He dragged himself from the window ledge and towards the door, shaking his head in preemptive dismay. Hank had already been gone twenty minutes, but this wasn’t the first time he’d had to turn around come home for something. He was brilliant; a genius, not that Erik would ever say so, but he also had a terrible memory.

“What’d you forget?” Erik asked, dragged the door open reluctantly. The hall was cold and dark, and let in a bout of bitter air he’d much rather have kept out of his powerless apartment.

For a moment he was perplexed, and then he lowered his eye line. Instead of the Beast, his reluctant mutant flatmate, there was a young man. Erik recognised him from somewhere, he was sure, but he couldn’t place him entirely. He wasn’t particularly tall, and far too thin to be stood out anywhere in the cold. Erik could imagine his mother seeing him and wrapping him up in a blanket; something he was very unlikely to do, even if the thought had crossed his mind.

The stranger held up a candle, eyes full of amusement.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, do you have a light?”

That _accent_. Erik blanched, staring. It was insanely British and emerged from a mouth that was so pretty and red it had to be a fantasy. He’d never felt the urge to stare at someone’s lips before; if he was going to do anything with lips, it would be sexual and satisfactory. But he could watch those lips until sunrise, he thought.

The brit raised an eyebrow curiously, and Erik realised he’d forgotten to answer.

“Sure. Sorry. Do I know you?” The stranger had spoken smoothly, charmingly - as well-spoken as the most upper-class English gentleman Erik could imagine. He, on the other hand, had spoken like a bumbling idiot. Every time his mouth opened, stupidity seemed to slip out, and yet he was doing nothing to stop speaking. “You’re shivering?”

The boy’s lips were redder still as he bit them. His eyes were a sparkling blue, even in the dark, that seemed to bore right into his soul.

“It’s nothing.” He attempted a smile. “My heating's broken, and it's been non-stop all day. I don’t know how I’m still standing, honestly.” Then he laughed, and though Erik was certain it wasn’t a true laugh, it was still beautiful. It alluded to a better laugh to come, and Erik wanted to draw it out of him with ease. “Would you mind?” He added, holding his candle up. “I didn’t prepare for a black out, and candles are pretty much the only form of light I have right now. It's going to be a great Christmas."

“Copy that. Come in.” Erik stepped aside, allowing the man into his apartment. If this was some intricate con, and the boy was about to knock him out and take all of their stuff from the apartment, at least it was a beautiful con.

He found one of his turtleneck jumpers, soft and warm, and offered it to the brit silently. He didn’t want to suggest that the boy didn’t have any winter clothes, but he was only small and dressed in slacks and a shirt, with a thin cardigan over the top that didn’t look warm at all. Not to mention he was barefoot on a cold, wooden floor. It was ridiculous.

“You’re staring, my friend. I am sorry to intrude-"

“Oh? No, it’s nothing sorry. The moonlight-“ Erik swallowed nervously. “You look familiar?” It was posed as a question. The brit hadn’t replied last time so Erik didn’t see why he would now, and so he distracted himself by rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen for a lighter. The human way, of course, which was much slower and more irritating. 

“Yes, I daresay I do. I live upstairs, we’ve probably passed each other before.” He spoke with an ease that Erik aspired to, considering they were practical strangers. His own English was fluent and damned good, if he said so himself, but he remembered how long it had taken him. How difficult it had been to translate in his head; thinking in German and speaking in English. But this British boy was heaven, and he tugged Erik’s turtleneck on swiftly. The sight of him was definitely a sin, now. His nimble frame was swamped by the jumper, but it was so devilishly attractive that Erik felt his mouth go dry.

The man stumbled as he took the candle back. He hadn’t been lying before, it seemed, when he said he didn’t know how he was still standing. He looked positively weak on his feet; and Erik was sure it wasn’t actually natural for anyone to be so insanely pale.

“Can you make it?” He asked, attempting a smile to hide his worry. He didn’t know anything about this neighbour. He might have lived with his parents or other family; he didn’t need a stranger to worry about him.

“Yes, sorry. I quite possibly forgot to eat today, and I was up all night studying.” Then he grinned, and Erik’s heart clenched. He watched this British boy twirl elegantly, and his heart raced. “At least the room’s stopped spinning.”

“Always a plus.” Erik murmured in reply, but it was only because he didn’t think he could speak any louder without his voice going. He wanted to snog the life out of him, and instead he stayed deathly still. The young man continued to smile, holding his candle like it was a blessing. When he smiled, he looked so much like Magda that it hurt. It wasn’t in appearance, of course. Not at all. But the sparkle in his eyes, the way the smile made his cheeks bunch up. That was Magda all over. Only it wasn’t, it was a perfect stranger.

“What?”

“Nothing. Your smile reminded me of someone.”

“People always say that.” The man smiled again, somehow sadder, and Erik felt like his brain had cooled down. “Who is she?” He asked curiously.

“How could you possibly know it’s a she? And she died. Her name was Magda.”

“I’m not exactly the most masculine of the species, darling.” He paused, his eyes flicking down briefly “It’s out again,” He extended the candle apologetically, and Erik found himself reaching for the lighter once more. “I am sorry, about your friend, by the way.”

“It was a year ago, now.” Erik said, distractedly. The man had called him darling. Darling? It had sounded so very pretty on his tongue, and those infuriating lips, and Erik wanted to hear it another thousand times.

“A year isn’t so long.”

“This one has been.”

“Ouch-“

Erik almost jumped. He’d not been surprised by anything in a very long time; and he certainly didn’t jump. But the man made such interesting noises. “I should get you a dish- for the wax.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never enjoyed the pleasure of dripping wax, dear.” The man had to be a hallucination- or a mind-reader. The way he flirted was divine, and his terms of endearment were teasing like nothing else. At a later date, Erik decided, he would think back to try and work out if he'd ever before been so hopelessly attracted to someone within minutes of meeting.

“Not that I can recall.” He said, dryly. “I know I’ve seen you out and about. Back when I used to go out, that is. You look familiar.”

“Like your friend?” The man said, his smile only the ghost of a tease. Erik very much got the impression he was being tested, but he wasn’t about to get mad and kick the man out of the apartment; not when he was wearing his new favourite jumper and happened to be bloody beautiful.

“Only when you smile. No, I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere else.”

“Well, I go to the university. That’s about it, actually. My sister does shows around here sometimes, too, so it might be that?”

“I work at the university. I’m an engineer.”

“Oh! I’m doing my masters in Genetics.”

Erik’s throat constricted so suddenly he might not have been breathing. Genetics. The last thing he needed was a geneticist snooping around his apartment. Anti-mutant feeling was as prominent now as ever, and if the beautiful man shared those beliefs then this perfect fantasy was over.

“Masters?” He asked, anyway. How was he supposed to help himself. Even if the man could get him stabbed in the street, he was the perfect bait. “You look like you’re 19.”

“I’m 21, actually. Not that advanced for my age. I’m only a year early- but, in my defence, I took a gap year after my degree.”

“So you finished your degree when you were 19?”

“Yes, I suppose so. I wasn’t really paying attention at the time. My step-father had just died. It wasn’t the best time in my life. Do you want to dance?”

“With you?”

“No,” The man rolled his eyes. “With my father. _Honestly_ , darling.” He extended his hand pointedly. “Isn’t the moonlight just lovely?”

“You know you're very forward with a man you’ve only just met.” Erik pointed out. "And you're the only forward brit I've ever met, too."

The 21 year old smiled at that, wryly, until Erik stood and took his hand to dance. The candlestick was held between their outstretched palms, the light flickering with each gentle movement in the dark. The apartment was mostly silent, but the old floors creaked beneath them and the man was humming absently. Erik might have thought he was high, but decided instead that he was just strange. He was weirdly okay with that. Strange suited him, the nameless heavenly vision.

Nameless, still.

“I’m Erik.” He said after a minute, drawing back and wiping some dripping wax away from the candlestick before it hit the man’s fingers again.

“Hi, Erik.” He was close enough to kiss, and his lips speaking Erik’s name were transfixing. “I’m Charles.” _Charles_. It was fitting of the student, Erik thought. British and studious, and spoken like it was a name reserved only for him. Charles grinned again, that perfect smile, as though he could read Erik’s mind. He slipped from his loose grip, twirling once more, and then reached forward to pluck the candlestick from Erik’s hand. “I’ll bring the jumper back washed as soon as there’s power. Sleep well, neighbour. And Merry Christmas.”

“Goodnight, Charles.” Erik couldn’t help but grin, watching the younger man saunter out of the room. He had a great arse, on top of everything else.

He felt rather like he’d just been dreaming. Maybe _he_ was high, and hallucinating. Either way, he was happy enough. He had the drugged sort of feeling like he’d just fallen in love. If it still existed tomorrow, then he could worry about it. For now, he was quite happy to ride it out before the self-loathing crept back in.

**Author's Note:**

> If you know Rent, I hope this is self-explanatory. I love text-transformations and I have a whole plan for this if anyone is interested in more.


End file.
